


Footsteps

by Wanderer (Straggler)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Other, Paralysis, Post Beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straggler/pseuds/Wanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that some dreams are glimpses of the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> This is in dedication to all those who have left comments, kudos, bookmarks and have followed me since the start of my AO3 days. Thank you all for the generous support and I hope the stories I write will continue to make an impact on your life, however large or small.

He’s surrounded by darkness, there’s a motion to them and he can hear his footsteps, slow and steady. There’s no echo, no breath, not a single noise nor a voice, but there is a presence beside him, calm and familiar.

 

In the morning, Charles wakes and he wonders what it means, but then decides it’s not important enough to bother with; he has other things on his agenda to take care of. There’s not a moment to lose.

 

He begins his day with a run around the estate before the others wake, delegates his hours between everybody carefully and efficiently, before finishing the last few hours in the study with a few drinks and a few rounds of chess.  In the evening, once he’s asleep, he’ll dream again.

 

\--

 

When he finds himself lying on the beach with a gaping hole in his chest, a bleeding wound on his back and an empty void in his mind, he thinks things can’t get any worse. Then Raven comes along and he decides that perhaps he spoke (thought) too soon.

 

At the back of his mind, far beyond the haze of pain, he knows the dream of walking will be just that; a dream.

 

\--

 

He doesn’t understand, why the same dream keeps repeating, why he continues to dream of walking in the darkness despite the loss of his legs. It’s been months since Cuba and it still hurts, emotionally and physically.

 

Charles sighs as he begins his day by pulling himself out of bed and onto his wheelchair, maneuver around his room that has been his own for years but makes him feel like a complete stranger clumsily trundling around. By the time he arrives for breakfast, everybody else is awake, and he’s suddenly tired again, not yet used to having to spend so much energy trying to get from one part of the house to another.

 

He spends the better part of his days wheeling around the house and on the grounds than training the students, and when he can no longer find it within himself to push any further, he retreats into his study to stare at an unfinished game of chess before ending the day by exhausting the last of his energies getting ready for bed. Once he falls to sleep, he dreams again.

 

\--

 

It’s awkward, and occasionally, Charles can’t help himself but look to his side and up at the man walking alongside him. He turns away before he makes a complete fool of himself again.

 

‘Something to say?’

 

He bites his lips and keeps his thoughts to himself. It’s been almost a year since the events of Cuba, and this has been something he has been wishing for, for months. But now that it’s finally happened and they’re finally here, back home, he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

 

‘I’ll not be taking my helmet off, not for you, Charles.’

 

He breathes in quietly as he continues to push his way along the smooth pathway. The gravel that had once been there had been cleared away, so it would make things easier for Charles to maneuver across. He appreciates the gesture, even if it often makes him feel useless and like he’s creating more unnecessary work.

 

‘I know.’

 

That night, he still dreams of the darkness, and he can still feel movement, and he can still hear his footsteps. In the morning, he wants to forget.

 

\--

 

Three months ago, Raven, Erik and his Brotherhood had appeared at Charles’ door. He let them in; it was never a question.

 

The hallways were almost always filled with endless arguments and more than once, Charles would wake up to an immense headache due to the clamoring happening in the kitchen despite it being on the further side of the house. However, as soon as he joined them for breakfast, matters had been more or less settled.

 

Agitation hung thickly in the air, but alongside that, was resignation. At the end of the table, Erik was sitting with cup of coffee to his lips, a knowing look in his eyes.

 

Erik was watching Charles carefully, but all Charles could see was the helmet.

 

\--

 

Conversation is almost always stilted, but no matter how much effort he puts into it, he’s no longer very proficient at saying the right thing at the right time, especially now that Erik’s taken to wearing the helmet practically 24/7.

 

He’s never entirely relied on his telepathy for conversation before, but whenever his eyes land on the helmet, his words lodge in his throat and refuse to budge however many times he swallows.

 

Charles never asks for Erik to take it off, because he knows he’ll receive a simple _no_ , and he fears that kind of rejection; doesn’t want to hear it. So he deals with it as best as he can, but sometimes, it feels as though he’s speaking to something without a soul.

 

\--

 

He’s surrounded by darkness, there’s a motion to them and he can hear footsteps, slow and steady. There’s no echo, no breath, not a single noise nor a voice, but there is a presence beside him, calm and familiar.

 

In the morning, Charles wakes and the meaning of it suddenly hits him. He begins his daily morning routine of pulling himself over to the wheelchair and into his renovated bathroom to freshen himself up, all with a smile. As soon as he enters the kitchen, he sees Erik with a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and asks him if he’d like a walk. Erik stares at him briefly, the slightest downturn on his lips, before he stands and the both of them make their way out to the porch and down the smooth pathway.

 

‘Something to say?’ Erik asks once they’re a small distance away from the house, because it’s very rare that Charles would seek him out unless it was for something important.

 

Charles still can’t hear him, or feel him, but he knows that Erik is still there beside him, walking with him, slow and steady.

 

‘I had a dream about this.’

 

Erik slows down marginally and focuses his eyes on the softly smiling man beside him. ‘Of us?’ He sounds skeptical, the slightest bit disbelieving and the barest hint of anticipation.

 

‘Yes, of you with me, together.’ He’s laughing now, because if he closes his eyes, this would be exactly as his dream predicted.

 

‘You saw this?’ Erik sounds unimpressed, as if wondering why Charles would bother speaking to him about something as trivial as a dream. But Charles couldn’t blame him; it’s entirely too random, and just the tiniest bit farfetched.

 

‘I saw nothing, but this feels remarkably like déjà vu.’

 

Erik humors him. ‘Explain to me.’

 

Charles lets go of his wheels and closes his eyes. His smile widens when he feels movement beneath him and hears the same slow and steady footsteps beside him. This is his dream come true.

 

‘In my dream, there is always only one pair of footsteps. I see nothing, but I can feel a presence beside me.’

 

‘I don’t understand.’

 

Charles opens his eyes and turns them towards Erik and keeps his smile. ‘There is always only one pair of footsteps.’ He pointedly looks down at his legs before returning his gaze to the man.

 

He can see recognition dawn in those pale, pale eyes, and he can feel more than he can see when Erik reaches to take his helmet off. Charles closes his eyes once more to complete his dream – the calm and familiar presence.

 

‘It is good to see you again, my friend.’


End file.
